


Consummate Professionals

by professortennant



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: (sorta) - Freeform, Aliens Made Them Do It, F/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Screw the Regs, Smut, fertility ritual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 06:04:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15835263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/professortennant/pseuds/professortennant
Summary: Sam and Jack's presence is required at a fertility ritual that leads them both to drastic changes in their relationship.





	Consummate Professionals

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [amaradangeli](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amaradangeli/pseuds/amaradangeli) in the [FandomRevival](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/FandomRevival) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> off-world; fertility festival; only this time S/J don't have to do the honors, but they do have to watch

The Air Force had never prepared them for _this._ Jack and Sam had both sat through diplomacy lectures and United Nations mock-ups, but their academy instructors had never mentioned the possibility of being given a front row seat to a fertility festival; never mentioned how to handle watching said fertility rites next to the very person you weren’t permitted to touch or acknowledge in any way—no matter the feelings between you. 

 

Only a few hours ago, Daniel had beamed at them, cheeks only pinking a little as he had announced enthusiastically that the inhabitants of the Grecian-like planet they were on wanted to invite them as guests of honor to their fertility ritual. 

 

______________________

 

_“It’s not anything salacious—well,” Daniel amended, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose and frowning. “Nothing salacious for_ us _. They just want us to watch.”_

 

_“Watch what, Daniel Jackson?”_

 

_Jack snapped his fingers and pointed at Teal’c, echoing the Jaffa’s question. “Yes, Daniel. Watch_ what _?”_

 

_“Well, in short: the village selects the most passionate among their people and it’s considered a blessing to all who watch them consummate that, erm, passion.”_

 

_Sam let out a little strangled noise. While she’d never considered herself a prude by any means, the thought of watching two people have sex—watching them with her team—sent her heart racing with anxiety. “And—and we_ all _have to watch?”_

 

_“Not exactly…”_

 

_“Daniel,” Jack growled, his patience running thin. “All the details now.”_

 

_“Okay, okay. They don’t want Teal’c in the arena because they think his status as a Jaffa would hinder the ritual.” He shot an apologetic look at his friend but Teal’c merely nodded in acknowledgment—this was not the first time such an exclusion had occurred. “And they obviously want you and Sam in the arena because, well, Jack, you’re the leader and Sam’s,” he blushed. “Sam’s beautiful.”_

 

_Jack chanced a look at his second and found, as he expected, that Sam was ducking her head and shifting her weight on her feet. She was always uncomfortable whenever someone mentioned how attractive she was; but it didn’t stop it from being any less true. She was beautiful and he understood the assumption that her beauty would bless their ritual, too._

 

_“And you, Space Monkey? You going to be taking notes? Hey! Maybe you’ll learn something.”Jack waggled his eyebrows suggestively, trying desperately to make light of the situation at hand._

 

_Daniel simply gave him a flat look and sighed, rolling his eyes. “No, I’ll be with Teal’c. Brogan offered to take us to their temples across the river. We’ll be able to at least collect some data on whether or not the Goa’uld have been here. So, it’ll just be you and Sam at the festival.”_

 

_Jack sighed and shot his second a thin, strained smile. “Swell.”_

 

______________________

 

And just like that, SG-1 was separated and while Teal’c and Daniel were led across the river, Sam and Jack were stripped of their weapons and encouraged to strip their tactical vests and field jackets and button ups, leaving them in their black tees and combat pants. 

 

Almost all of the adult population of the village was present and Jack noticed that many of them were pressed tightly together and there was a general hum of anticipation and excitement in the air, chatter and laughter flowing as easily as the dark colored wine many of them were drinking. 

 

Beside him, Sam fidgeted restlessly and nervously, hands clenching and fisting the fabric of her pants, leg bouncing next to his as she tried to work off excess energy. 

 

He reached out and placed his hand on her knee, stilling her motions. She froze and turned to stare at him, those wide eyes questioning. “Sir?”

 

“Just, just relax, Carter.”

 

She let out a little huff. “Right, relax. Yes, sir.”

 

“Hey, there are people back home who pay for this sort of thing and it doesn’t come with a fertility blessing, so, just think of it as getting a really, really good deal.”

 

It was a weak attempt at humor, but he needed to make this okay, needed to make her relax and not make it more strained between them. They were about to watch two people have sex and while that had never done anything for him in particular, he had a sneaking suspicion doing so with Sam next to him might change that for him. 

 

To his relief, Sam smiled lightly and nodded. “A bargain, sir,” she agreed good-naturedly. 

 

He gave her knee one last, affectionate squeeze before withdrawing. The arena was dark and cool and the only light stemmed from the bay of candles surrounding the rounded stage in the center. The darkness of the audience portion of the arena, he figured, was for everyone’s benefit: the couple in the center of the stage could pretend they were alone and if members of the audience got a little handsy, no one would know. 

 

His heart pounded and, despite his words of reassurance to Carter earlier, he was feeling the nerves just as acutely as she probably was. As he leaned over to ask if perhaps they should have ordered some of the wine that was being passed around, a hush fell over the crowd and two naked villagers entered the middle of the stage.

 

They were both perfectly ordinary, Jack noted with surprise. Although their skin was decorated ornately with gold and silver swirls—no doubt part of the ritual—both of them were about Carter’s age, their bodies rounded and average; certainly not the bodies of the Adonis-like statues that decorated the outside of the arena. 

 

The couple drank deeply from each of the silver chalices laid out for them, their arms wrapping and entwining each other as they drank. Jack watched in fascination as the man smiled softly at the woman and reached out and swiped at his partner’s bottom lip and sucking up the stray drop of wine that clung to his skin. 

 

Jack shifted at the unexpected intimacy. He expected the ritual to begin and end in a flurry of movements; he hadn’t expected _intimacy_. How many times had he imagined the very same motion himself—reaching out and kissing away droplets of coffee from Carter’s mouth?

 

As the couple bowed deeply to all sides of the arena before falling into each other’s arms, Jack started to think he may have seriously underestimated how difficult watching this with Sam next to him was going to be.

 

______________________

 

 

Sam watched with wide eyes as the man in the center of the arena laid the woman out underneath him, his large hand stroking over her shoulders and breasts, over her quivering stomach, dipping down and pushing his partner’s thighs apart and settling between her legs.

 

“Oh,” she exhaled, watching as the couple on stage writhed together, the woman’s hands fitting perfectly into the man’s hair and holding his mouth to her sex. The man’s hand held her hips down as they twitched and jerked beneath his tongue and mouth; the woman’s cries of pleasure filled the arena, panting and gasping and though Sam didn’t speak the language, some things were universal and she knew the woman was crying out for him to not stop and taking their god’s name in vain. 

 

Sam felt hot and flushed all over and, to her embarrassment, she was wet and slick between her thighs and growing increasingly so as the couple before her worked together to bring the other as much pleasure as possible, seemingly unbothered by the dozens of eyes upon them. 

 

Beside her, she could feel that Jack was completely and perfectly still, hands clenched into tight fists on his thighs. She wanted to look down, wanted to know if this was affecting him as much as it was affecting her. 

 

But she wouldn’t.

 

Instead, she watched as the man loosely fisted himself and thrust into his hand to take the edge of pleasure off as he kissed his way up his lover’s body, stopping to lick and suck at the woman’s breasts and nipples. 

 

Sam shifted in her seat, pressing her thighs together, desperate for relief. As she shifted, the seam of her pants pressed against her clit and she groaned, eyes slamming shut as her body tensed and relaxed in time with the press of the seam against her. She shifted again, seeking relief. 

 

It was too much—the sounds of the woman’s cries, the masculine grunts of her lover, the soft _pop_ as their lips pressed together and the soft sucking noises that permeated the room as the audience around them turned their attention to their partners, mimicking the couple’s motions on stage. 

 

Her pulse thudded in her ears and she felt dazed, her breasts heavy and aching to be touched. She rocked against the seam of her pants. If she could just keep this up, it would be enough. The movements were subtle and she didn’t think the Colonel would notice; she just needed…

 

And then the Colonel’s hand was on her hip, stilling her motions. She gasped at the feel of him touching her. “Sir,” she breathed out in a whisper, eyes falling from the couple on stage who were lazily touching one another. The woman had switched places with the man, now straddling him and leaning over his body and tracing the silver and gold markings along his body with her fingertips and tongue.

 

“Easy, Major,” the Colonel commanded, his breath hot against her ear. She groaned and nodded, cheeks hot. 

 

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “It’s too much to not…” _Too much to not sit here and not touch herself; too much to watch and feel with Jack sitting next to her._

 

He shook his head and took a deep breath, keeping his hand on her hip. The weight of his hand there felt as much reassuring and anchoring as it did arousing, and she felt some of her frantic arousal ebb. She focused on the heat of his hand through the fabric of her pants, the heat and wetness between her thighs, and then she focused on her breathing—slow and steady.

 

Jack squeezed her hip and said reassuringly,“It’ll be over soon.” 

 

 

______________________

 

Sitting next to Samantha Carter as she worked herself over on nothing but the seam of her pants and the latent arousal thrumming in the room combined with the stimulating visual before him, Jack decided, was a particular circle of hell that Jack was in no hurry to escape. 

 

His cock was hard and heavy in his BDUs and it took every ounce of military discipline to not reach down and adjust himself, to not stroke himself through the thick fabric. 

 

While the sounds and events of the couple in the center of the stage were arousing in a low humming sort of way, Jack had spent the majority of the ritual watching his second in command slowly come undone. 

 

He watched with rapt attention as her lips parted and her eyes went wide, breathing shallow and rushed. He licked at his lips and thought about filling her parted lips with his fingers, his tongue, his cock.

 

Beside him, his second in command rocked against the seam of her pants and pressed her thighs together, squeezing and relaxing, trying to generate pressure and friction where she desperately needed it. And god, he desperately wanted to give it to her—wanted to lay her out beneath him and fill her and feel her body, hot and slick and his, clench around him. 

 

But his control was only so strong and if she didn’t stop twitching beside him, didn’t stop exhaling and gasping softly, he would forget why they _shouldn’t_ and give them both what they clearly wanted. 

 

Touching her, in retrospect, had been a terrible idea. He’d intended to soothe her, anchor her, calm her. He bowed low, lips just brushing against her ear, and promised her it would be over soon.

 

And then she wrapped her hand around his wrist and held his hand to her hip, her thumb stroking the thin skin over his pulse, following the veins up and back. “Carter,” he warned, lips more deliberately brushing over the shell of her ear.

 

She shuddered and turned to face him, face upturned and eyes hazy and glassy with pleasure. “Sir, please…”

 

Before them, the couple in the center stage had moved on to the main event and the man kissed his lover deeply as he slid inside of her. The woman was so wet and ready that everyone in the arena heard the entrance and it felt like the arena collectively groaned.

 

Sam’s gaze skittered from his and settled on the couple, watching as the man thoroughly fucked the woman, sliding in and out of her at a leisurely pace. The woman wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him in deeper, encouraging him to move faster and harder. _A universal language._

 

Jack felt Sam’s grip on his wrist tighten, felt her hips begin rocking once more, lips parting in arousal. Around them, the air in the arena began to smell musky and thick, like sex, and he was painfully reminded that it was expected that the audience participate, as well. 

 

He shifted closer to his second and pressed his lips to her ear. “Sam?” he questioned, voice soft and husky and low. If she wanted this—wanted him—she would have to be explicit; she would have to be in control. 

 

Licking her lips, Sam looked at him and slowly, deliberately dragged his hand from her hip between her thighs. 

 

“Jack…”

 

The angle was awkward, but he didn’t give a damn—not when she was hot and damp through the fabric of her pants and she was rocking on his fingers and he was using the heel of his palm to give her the friction she was desperate for. He dropped his lips to the junction of her neck and shoulder and pressed a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss to her skin. He groaned at the taste of her, salty and slick with sweat. 

 

Sam tangled a hand up in his hair to hold his head there, letting him feel the pulse thudding beneath her skin. Her nails scraped against his scalp and he jerked against her, teeth sinking into her skin. She grinned and filed that away as knowledge she now had about him. 

 

He worked his hand over the front of her pants, unbuttoning until there was enough room for him to get his fingers beneath the fabric of her underwear. He pushed the soaked fabric aside easily and dragged a finger through her slick folds, dipping inside her teasingly before pulling out and using the pad of his now-slicked finger to press against her clit. 

 

She twitched and jerked in his hold, but he didn’t let up. He buried his face in her neck, inhaling the scent of her and focusing on the feel of her body: the way she clenched at his finger, the smell of her sex, her hitched breathing, her flexing body. These were the fuel to his fantasy and he didn’t want to miss at thing.

 

He nosed at the patch of skin beneath her ear. “Are you still watching?” he asked breathlessly. She shook her head and lolled her head back, exposing more of her neck to him. 

 

In truth, the moment his hand had fallen to her hip and then between her legs, the arena had fallen away. All she could think and feel and hear was _him._

  
“Just you,” she confessed, pressing her hips into his hand and begging for more. “Just you.”

 

He groaned and doubled his efforts, working his fingers against her clit and entrance, swirling through her juices and smearing them over her labia and clit. In tandem with his fingers, his mouth worked over the cords of her neck. 

 

She turned her head and there was a brief moment of hesitation, blue eyes meeting brown, and then he circled her clit and she groaned and fell against him, her mouth covering his. He dominated the kiss, sucking at her bottom lip and tongue slipping between her lips and stroking over her tongue and the roof of her mouth. She tasted like the MRE cinnamon oatmeal and instant coffee they’d had at breakfast and he knew he’d only ever pack that for the rest of their lives—he wanted this taste in her mouth always.

 

Sam broke the kiss and leaned her forehead against his. His hand stroked lazily against her. He wasn’t in a rush to finish her off and she was starting to feel antsy and on-edge. Straddling the precipice of pleasure this long was leaving her feeling spent and stretched out and empty. 

 

She took matters into her own hands.

 

Trailing her hand down from his hair, she twisted her hand until she was stroking over his thigh and moving upwards, ghosting just over the outline of his cock which was hard and thick. 

 

“Don’t tease, Sam,” Jack growled against her skin, thrusting up into her hand. She cupped him loosely and he hissed, sealing his mouth over hers once more. 

 

Sam, clever engineer that she was, made quick work of his pants and pulled him free, wrapping her hand around his cock. Her hand was hot and dry and she touched him like she was made for him—encircling and squeezing, jerking him off and setting a steady pace. Her thumb brushed over his head, collecting his fluid at the tip and smearing it down over his length, using his own precum as lubrication to ease her strokes.

 

“Fuck,” he gasped, pushing himself into her hand. He wished they were alone; he wished it was them in the middle of the stage. He wanted to see her decked out in silver and gold paint; wanted to see the candlelight bounce off her skin and illuminate her; wanted more than just her hand around him and his hand inside of her—he wanted to be inside her, wanted his hands on her breasts and his mouth on hers. He just _wanted_ her.

 

Together, they worked the other over, lips sloppily meeting here and there, but both of their attention was focused on the ministrations between their partner’s legs. Jack watched as his hand moved beneath Sam’s underwear and Sam watched as his cock disappeared in and out of her fist, mimicking what they both wanted. 

 

He twisted his hand and slipped two fingers inside of her and she hissed and then bit back a cry of pleasure as he pressed his thumb to her clit, pressing against and inside of her in tandem. 

 

It was a blur of pleasure after that, their hands working until the muscles of their wrists cramped and their skin was slick with saliva and sweat, her thighs smeared with her own juices and her palm covers in his. It was heady and illicit and _right._

 

He broke first, hips jerking into her hand erratically. “Sam, Christ, I’m going to come.” 

 

She tightened her grip on him and swiped her thumb along the underside of his shaft and leaned back against him, lips pressing to the underside of his jaw. “Then come,” she commanded, simultaneously clenching around his fingers inside of her.

 

He came with a muffled groan, turning his lips against her hair line and emptying himself into her hand, hot ejaculate covering her pale hand and falling against the khaki of his combat pants. 

 

Sam followed right behind him, dragging his free hand to her breast and encouraging him to squeeze and palm her through the thin fabric of her tee shirt. The combination of his ejaculate sticky on her hand, his fingers inside of her and working her over, and the gentle pull and palming of her breast pushed her over the edge and she fell against him, shuddering and turning her face upwards.

 

He kissed her, tongue filling her mouth in ways that he wished he could do elsewhere and she sucked greedily on his tongue, letting him kiss and touch her through her climax.

 

The sounds of the couple in the center stage came roaring back to life in surround sound, the grunts and groans, the slapping of skin on skin, the slick push and pull of the man’s cock in and out of the woman—all amplified in the arena like surround sound. The woman’s cries were becoming high-pitched and needy and the thrum of anticipation, of a crashing orgasm, was on the horizon. 

 

The couple on stage climaxed as Sam and Jack lazily stroked the other through the aftershocks of their own orgasm. Jack watched as Sam swiped the excess cum from her palm and his cock and lifted it to her lips, licking tentatively and then more enthusiastically at the taste of him against her tongue—hot and salty and _Jack._ He groaned and caught her now clean—if not still sticky—hand, kissing her and cataloguing the taste of them together. 

 

She sighed and tucked him back into his pants and he withdrew his hand from between her legs, mimicking her actions and sucking his fingers—drenched in her juices—between his lips. He wanted to laugh at the blush on her cheeks at the action, the reaction so incongruous with their previous actions. 

 

Around them, the arena was emptying as the ritual came to a close and the villagers fled back to their homes, now sufficiently blessed by the fertility ritual. Jack wondered if when they returned to this planet in a year if they would see the results of this day. 

 

He cleared his throat as Sam zipped her pants up and discreetly wiped her hand on the fabric of her pants. “So,” he said softly, unsure where they now stood. “That happened.”

 

She closed her eyes and nodded, turning worried eyes on him. “It did. I’m, I’m so sorry, sir.”

 

He froze at her words, heart thundering in his chest. _Sorry._ She was _sorry_ it happened—caught up in the moment and it hadn’t meant anything, just a CO helping out a teammate. He nodded slowly, carefully ensuring his face gave nothing of the sinking disappointment he was feeling. 

 

“Think nothing of it, Carter.”

 

She turned sharply at his tone and he winced. It had been too long since a woman—since anyone—could read him the way she could. Tilting her head, examining him like one of her projects in the lab, she took his hand carefully in hers. They were alone in the arena now, the villagers gone and the ritual couple taken off-stage. 

 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t control myself,” she clarified. “I’m not—I’m not sorry it happened.” She continued, more softly and stroking her thumb over his knuckles. “I”m not sorry it happened with _you.”_

 

He felt the corners of his mouth twitch upwards as relief flooded him. “Yeah?”

 

“Yes,” she confirmed readily, her cheeks still a lovely shade of pink. He reached forward to rub his thumb over the curve of her cheek, enjoying the way she turned into his touch so easily, so readily. 

 

Feeling decidedly lucky and hoping that ritual blessing was rubbing off on him, he took a breath and soldiered on, pressing the issue. “This is a pretty big room,” he said, gesturing to the empty arena. “Are we leaving this here?”

 

She bites her lip and thinks back to the solution they had come up with all those months ago. Leave it in the room; forget about it and soldier on. Except she hadn’t forgotten and neither one had moved on.

 

“No,” she said decisively. “I think maybe this one’s coming with us back home.”

 

It would be a risk. Neither one was ready to leave the SGC and they’d have to be careful; they’d need to establish ground rules and what this all meant. But she was done hiding from him.

 

Before her, Jack softened, brown eyes going light and bright with happiness. He swooped forward and pressed his lips to hers, softly, gently. A promise. 

 

She cupped his jaw and held his face to her lips for an extra second, savoring the taste of him. They were stuck on this mission for another few days and she wasn’t sure when she would next be able to touch him like this. She was feeling greedy today.

 

The Air Force hadn’t prepared her for this—alien rituals and falling in love with your CO. But she figured between the two of them, they could figure out a battle plan.

 

Together.


End file.
